Samantha Brodsky

His name was Mustang, but he owned a Corvette. It was blood red and always smelled of cigarettes. There was something about the way he…

Writers are supposed to dwell Hunchbacked in the shadows Hidden in the corners of coffee shops and cafés Sipping our lattes with frightened lips Observing…

I’ve been dead for exactly three weeks, two days, five hours, and 32 minutes. But who’s counting? I was killed crossing the street late at…

I never thought anything of it, the way my grandpa’s hands shook. “He’s fine,” my mom would whisper reassuringly once I began giving her concerned…

I feel as though I have a cough, A whooping cough, Eyes stinging in the frozen chill, A persistent breeze far from still. My mind…

I can feel it, It’s as bright as the steady Autumn winds are crisp, It’s as loud as the velvet Sea-foam waves are serene, That…